Harry Potter and the Revelation of Prophecy
by Carolus Sceler
Summary: [Summer after Ootp] Harry, stuck once again at the Dursleys', has a lot of time to think. And two of his many thoughts touch on that which will change his life forever...
1. In Initio

The sun shown lazily, shining high over the rooftops of one Privet Drive, in the town of Little Whinging, in the county of Surrey, in the grand old United Kingdom. It was quite a warm day out, the perfect day to just relax and enjoy life, sipping cool lemonade, or taking a swim in one's pool. However, there was one resident of Privet Drive who was doing none of the above. He had no lemonade, nor did he have a pool. No matter how hard he tried, he could not bear to relax, and if anyone was enjoying life the least at that moment in time, it was him. All one Harry James Potter could bear to do was lay on his now-too-small bed, among the rumpled sheets that had not been made in years, and stare out the window.

A pitiful existence was his. The moment dear Harry tried to do anything to occupy his thoughts, he lost all will to do anything at all. He ran a hand through his messy black hair (he had long given up any pretense of having any semblance of control over it) and sighed. It seemed that he was doing that a lot lately, sighing. So as to not think about the reason, he turned his attention back to the street below him. He saw a group of three young children playing with a ball in the middle of the street. The carefree looks on each face infuriated him to no end.

'Did these children not know what was about to begin? Did they not know how much the world was suffering? DID THEY NOT KNOW?'

He raged inside his head. It was at times like this that Harry bemoaned the separation of the Magic and Muggle worlds. Because of this separation, everyone in the Muggle world remained blissfully ignorant of the re-risen and now-hell-bent-on-world-domination Lord Voldemort. They continued to live their lives as though a tyrannical evil wizard couldn't swoop down on them at any minute and end their lives with a simple _Avada Kedavra. _This was made all the more likely by their living near the Boy-Who-Lived. For because of a blasted prophecy made by some half-witted Seer twenty years before, Harry was now marked as the equal of the Dark Lord, and fated to either end his life or have his life ended.

Even with his being the only person standing between Lord Voldemort and the complete domination of the entire world and the wholesale slaughter of all Muggles and Muggle-born wizards everywhere, he was forced to live, one month out of the year, in the house of his aunt, his last living blood relative. Most of the time, though, he tried to forget about her unfortunate relation to him, as he had long since stopped thinking of her as his aunt. She was only Petunia Dursley, the wife of Vernon and mother of Dudley Dursley. His relatives' dislike of abnormalities was only exceeded by their dislike of the Potters, and since Harry was both abnormal and a Potter, the first eleven years of his life were not the most pleasant of experiences. He hated the fact that the rest of his friends got to spend their summers in loving homes, and then were to precede his going to 12 Grimmauld Place, the home of his late Godfather. He hated the fact that his best friends would be spending so much time alone without him. He hated the fact that he would not be with Hermione…

During the time Harry had been with the Dursleys, he had had quite a bit of time to think on the experiences of the past year. By and large the majority of his thoughts were focused on the death of his Godfather. Harry had accepted that his death, mostly, was not his fault. The others simply did not understand that thought was Harry's method of dealing with complex feelings. He still threw some of the blame on himself, but he now was able to see that most of the fault should fall to Bellatrix Lestrange, who actually did the killing. He now had a list of people who had to die before he could be free. Voldemort was at the top, but Bellatrix Lestrange was right beneath him.

Thoughts such as these occupied most of his time, but when his mind went blank, his thoughts would, of their own accord, shift to thoughts of his best friend. For he now considered Hermione, not Ron, his best friend. Ron was a good friend, of course. One of his best. But not THE best. For in times when Harry was sorely in need of friends, Ron chose to abandon him for his own selfishness. When Harry's name had been placed in the Goblet of Fire by the fugitive Barty Crouch, Ron considered this to be, like most of the school did, another chance for Harry to gain more attention for himself. Ron's upbringing, constantly in the shadow of his five older brothers, left him with a severe inferiority complex, and a bad temper ran throughout his family. These things combined in a dangerous combination in Ron, who hated to be in the shadow of anyone, and seemed to think he was in Harry's shadow, as well.

But Hermione…she had never turned her back on him, had always supported him no matter the cost to her. But Harry found his thoughts turning far too often towards Hermione, more so than should be ordinary, in his opinion, for even best friends. So Harry decided to do some research, something that Hermione would be proud of…

_'Damn, not again. No more thoughts of Hermione until this is done.'_

_He cautiously turned the knob of the door and crept out. _

_'Good, no sign of anyone.' _

_The Dursleys had left for the evening, and he only then, an hour later, decided to sneak out for his mission. He wanted to find out why he could not keep his thoughts off of Hermione, and his mind had turned to a conversation he had overheard between his Uncle and cousin. His cousin was apparently having problems with his girlfriend (Harry thought he knew the problem; he seriously doubted the sanity of any girl who would go out with Dudley). Vernon, being his usually unemotional self, waved Dudley off and told him that anything he needed could be found on the internet. He then told Dudley the combination to the padlock that protected his study ("Potter-proof," sneered Uncle Vernon, when he was showing it to everyone at dinner. "I don't want anything unnatural being done on my computer. You know the government is watching us these days, and I wouldn't want them knowing what we've got here," he had said with a contemptuous nod to Harry.). _

_Luckily, since he didn't know Harry was around, he said the combination aloud. Unfortunately, Harry had not heard the password, as they were approaching where he was standing, forcing him to scamper away. It had seemingly worked for Dudley, for a week later, he still had the same girlfriend. Harry was considering owling St. Mungo's for an antipsychotic, and tricking Dudley into slipping it to her, but thought better of it. In any event, if whatever could be found on the internet could convince a girl to stay with Dudley, then he would give it a shot. _

_Five years ago, in his last year of Muggle school, Harry had been taught to use a computer, and he had heard on the few occasions that he had been able to watch the TV (when the Dursleys were all out) he had heard about websites that allowed you to search for things. 'These, in combination, should be enough,' he thought, trying to convince himself that he wouldn't blow up the Dursleys' computer in anger._

_He went to the door of the study and unlocked the padlock. Slipping in, he sat down in Vernon's oversized (for Harry, not for Vernon) chair, and turned the computer on._

_'Alright, I'm here, now what could Vernon's password be?'_

_'Vernon? Nope, not it. Dursley? Nope. Petunia? Nope. Death to Potter? Wait, I was joking! Well, what do you know? Interesting password…'_

_He searched the internet on a site he had heard about on an advertisement, until he came upon an online advice column that described a situation just like his:_

**_Q: Dear Isaiah, _**

**_Hello, I'm a young man from London and I was wondering. I have a best friend who is also a girl. We have known each other for about ten years and I have always felt a strong connection to her. However, she went to University in France a few weeks ago, and I feel as though I am going mad. I cannot keep my mind off of her! I do not get much sleep, and have lost my appetite. Why can't I function without her around?_**

**_Please Help,_**

**_Insanity_**

**_A: Dear Insanity,_**

**_I believe you have a serious problem._**

_'Oh God,' Harry thought, 'what serious problem do I have? Goodness knows I have enough of those already.'_

_He willed himself to keep reading._

**_That problem is that you seem to have fallen in love with your best friend._**

_"What!" Harry shouted aloud. "I have fallen in LOVE with HERMIONE?"_

**_b Tell me, do you seem to not be able to get your mind off her when she is not around? Do you have an unnatural amount of empathy for her feelings? Does her happiness make you happy, her sadness make you sad? Would you fight for her, kill for her, die for her? _**

_'Uh oh, yes to all.'_

**_b If so, then I fear you do indeed love your best friend. This can be a very precarious situation, as she might not feel the same. However, if her friendship seems to be the same to you as yours is for her, she just might. It is your choice whether or not to pursue this, but I wish you the best of luck._**

**_God Bless,_**

**_Isaiah /b _**

_Harry was stunned thoughtless, so he blankly walked back upstairs from Vernon's study, closed his door, and fell asleep. This time, though, his dreams were not full of images of Sirius falling through the veil in the Department of Mysteries, but of a brown-haired, brown-eyed girl…_

Now, as he thought on it, he considered himself a fool for not realizing his feelings earlier. For now, he knew that these feelings were not a new development, but a continuation of feelings he had had for most of the past five years. Also thinking back, he noticed her feelings as well. She always had shown a marked preference for him over Ron, and he had shared most of his experiences with her, more than Ron. Even those things that she did that annoyed him to no end, such as her telling Professor McGonagall about the Firebolt sent to him Christmas of his third year, which led to its confiscation, were for his own good. He was sure she had feelings for him as well, and decided he would make her his once her saw her, since now that he knew, he couldn't bear the thought of her thinking he did not care about her as she wanted him to. Unfortunately, he could do little in his present location.

Bemoaning the injustice of his own life, and unable to continue watching the happy-go-lucky scene below him in the street, Harry spun around and faced the four walls of his room. The walls were lined with shelves, upon which were the various toys that Harry's cousin Dudley had outgrown (i.e., the novelty had worn off), but did not wish to throw out. The only things to give a clue that this was not the bedroom of an ordinary Muggle boy, or a storeroom for that matter, were the owl perch near the window, empty at the moment, since his owl, Hedwig, was out carrying a letter to Hermione, and the titles of the many books strewn about in a half-hearted attempt, early on, to read. No ORDINARY child had books on Potions and A History of Magic and The Standard Book of Spells, Grade V, as his relatives constantly reminded him. He laid his head on his pillow and sighed.

'Why was I chosen for this? Why must I carry the burden of being the Savior of the World? There must not be a God, for a true and just God would not allow such things to come to pass. If there were a God, I would have the power and authority behind me to train to defeat Voldemort. If there was a God, Sirius would not have been killed. If there was a God, I could be with Hermione…'

He then fell into a fitful slumber. Unnoticed to him, two figures continued to watch him from their positions in the corner of the room. One turned to the other, who seemed to show deference to him, and said,

"Hmm, so he thinks there's no God? Well, go on, Gabriel; let's show him a thing or two."

The other being bowed low and then disappeared. This was quite a feat, as Dumbledore had put up anti-apparation wards years before. The being then turned back towards Harry's sleeping form and smiled.

"Don't worry, Harry, things are not as bad as they seem right now. Just wait and see. You were wrong about one thing, though…

There is so a God,

And I am he."

With that, the being faded away, mumbling something about his computer. Harry shot up in bed, thinking he had heard something, but finding his room empty. He lay back down and fell asleep, but this time, with an odd feeling of contentment.

A/N: And so it begins. Please tell me what you think. Your input is appreciated and can only make this story better!


	2. Legatus Demiratur

A/N: If I seem slightly deranged during this chapter, it is because I am writing it while miserable with allergies. On with the show!

His Grace, Adrian Meditari, Archduke of Belluelle was sleeping soundly in his bed.

Life was good for Adrian. He had just, in the past few weeks, found out he was a wizard, that he had been selected to be a very high-ranking member of the international magical community, and that he was as good as royalty and had an entire city to rule. The reasons for Adrian's choosing were simple. He had an above-average intelligence and magical ability, and was muggleborn, so his allegiances lied more with the muggle than with the wizarding world. He still wondered, though, since there must have been hundreds with those qualifications all over the world. To cement his allegiance, he was kept in the dark for the first sixteen years of his life, not even being told of his magical ability. When the previous occupant of his post died just three weeks ago, he was picked up outside his home, brought in secret to the United Nations headquarters in New York, and told all. He was to inherit the post of High Commissioner of Magic, rendering him the most powerful magical figure in the world…at least, in theory. However, his power in fact was more of the variant that the Queen of the United Kingdom possessed. He was little more than a figurehead, albeit a well taken care of figurehead. When the Great Treaty of Rome, the document cementing the split between the magical and muggle worlds, was approved, it contained many provisions forced in by the muggle overseers of the conference. The fact that muggles outnumbered wizards almost 100 to one in those days, along with the fact that there were few to no powerful wizards to defend the rights of the magical, allowed this to happen. One of these was the creation of a post, held by a wizard appointed by the muggle governments, that would have absolute authority over all things magical. Upon the creation of the muggle organizations known as the League of Nations and later the United Nations, the choice of this appointment passed to them, though they had not had the opportunity to exercise it yet. The High Commissioners served for life, and as the mean death age for a wizard is around 120 years, and as appointments are usually made around the twentieth year, most served for about a century each. The last appointment had been made in 1901, so the international organizations had to sit on their hands for over a century. Adrian was the seventh such officer, and as such, was now sleeping in luxury in the Palace of Belluelle Sanctus, in the magical city of Belluelle. Now, Adrian thought he had little to fear, so the sudden appearance of an old man in his bedchamber did not awaken him. The sensation of a bucket of ice water being dumped on his head, however, did.

"What the blood hell was that for! Who did that?"

He looked around, and, seeing the old man in his pure white robes, focused his anger on him.

"Hey, old man, do you know who I am?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well, I'm…you do?"

"Of course, Adrian, I know just about everything about you."

He then proceed to tell Adrian everything about his life, things that he himself had all but forgotten. At the end of this monologue, the old man had a small smile on his face, but did not laugh at the dumbstruck look on Adrian's face.

After a few moments of stunned silence, Adrian managed to put his jaw up off the floor and speak again.

"Okay, so maybe you do know who I am," he stammered, "but that still doesn't explain why you are in my room while I was sleeping."

The strange man chuckled, and then responded, "Of course, allow me to explain. A friend of mine, a Mr. Harry Potter, is in a bad spot. Has a bit of a problem with an evil, semi-immortal Dark Lord who wants him dead, you see…"

Adrian's eyes shot open at that, and he could only reply with a strained, "What?"

The old man chuckled again, and continued with his story. "About sixteen years ago, the Dark Lord Voldemort was terrorizing the world, mostly in Britain. Heard a prophecy about a child being born who could defeat him, tried to kill the child, curse hit him instead, turned him into a ghost until about a year ago. Kidnaps child who caused his first fall, uses his blood in an evil necromantic ritual to restore his body, rises again, and the only one who can stop him going on a genocidal rampage and killing most of humanity is that child who also happens to be Mr. Potter. You got all that?"

Adrian's eyes widened even further, if that was possible, and his knees buckled under him, forcing to sit back on the bed. He just stared for a moment, until his thoughts were, for the most part, collected, and he managed to ask, "Where do I fit in?"

"Funny you should ask that," said the man, pulling a roll of parchment out of his robes. "On June 10th, go to this address. There, you will meet Mr. Potter. You are to provide Mr. Potter with all the support and training that you can, for if Mr. Potter fails, the world is doomed to shadow."

Adrian accepted the parchment with a trembling hand, and carefully unrolled it. It only had a single line of writing, which read '12 Grimmald Place, London.' He looked up at the man. "Why me?" he queried.

"Why you? Because you are the only one with power that will help. There are those whose greatest wish is to aid Mr. Potter, such as Albus Dumbledore, a man I'm sure you'll get to know. Dumbledore, however, has little power to aid Mr. Potter without the support of the government. And the British Ministry of Magic, though they have admitted that Voldemort has returned, something they were loath to do, they still are reluctant to take action against him. No one else can give him the power he needs to defeat Voldemort. Will you do it?"

Adrian thought on it. He had heard about some of the topics that the old man had discussed, though not much. 'And,' he thought, 'I can check everything out before I go to this place, and if it doesn't all seem sound, I don't go.'

"I'll do it," he responded, with a lot more confidence than he felt.

"Good," he said, "oh, one last thing before I go. I need a signed parchment from you, exempting Mr. Potter from the Reasonable Restrictions on Underage Wizardry. It would be exceedingly helpful if he could use magic this summer, I have a feeling he'll need it. Make two copies, send one to the Underage Magic Office at the British Ministry, and the other to Harry. If you order them to exempt him, none can gainsay you."

Adrian nodded his assent. "That doesn't seem too hard, I'll get on it right away. And, before you go, what is your name?"

The old man smiled.

"You humans call me Gabriel."

He then vanished.


	3. Adventus Angeli

The morning of June 10th dawned like any other for young Harry Potter. Even though he was not obligated to do chores any more, thanks to the Order's little talk with his Uncle when he arrived at the train station, he still cooked the breakfast every morning. This morning, however, Harry detected something different. After dressing and walking downstairs, he got out the frying pan and set to work. Dudley needed lots of protein for his boxing regimen, and therefore, Harry needed to cook a lot of meat. After ten minutes, though, Harry began to wonder where his relatives were. For his Uncle and cousin were never late for a meal. He cautiously walked back upstairs.

He put his ear to his uncle's door, but heard nothing. When he opened the door, he saw the bed neatly made, but neither his aunt, nor his uncle were anywhere in sight. A check of his cousin's room turned up the same, but now Harry knew something was wrong, since he had never seen Dudley's bed made. He hurried to his room and retrieved his wand from under his pillow. He then tip-toed back downstairs.

He was not prepared for the sight of an old man in white robes sitting at the table eating the breakfast he had just been cooking. The man had his back to Harry, so he thought that he could sneak up and stun him. Just as he reached the bottom of the stairs, however, the man turned around, completely unfazed at the wand pointed right at his head. He calmly stood, causing Harry to shout, alarmed,

"Don't move!"

The old man smiled. "I know not what you think you are going to do with that Atlantic cod, but…"

Harry scoffed and held up his wand, preparing to stun the old man. It was then that he noticed that he held not a wand, but a large, wet fish that looked entirely out of place in Petunia's clean, pristine kitchen. He dropped it in disgust, and proceed to glare at the old man, as if this would be enough to stop him.

Unlikely, as the man had just transfigured the wand in his hand without a word or motion, proving that he was more skilled than most wizards of the day. Harry merely stuttered "Who are you?" before backing up to the stairs, preparing to run if the old man made a sudden move at him. Fortunately, the old man seemed content to sit and watch him, for the moment at least.

After a tense minute had passed in which neither of the men moved, a noise which Harry recognized as an owl scratching to get in resonated throughout the kitchen. The sound continued until the old man chuckled.

"Well, that owl is waiting, aren't you going to let it in?" he asked, amused.

Harry didn't respond, but edged his way slowly around the kitchen, sticking to the walls and never turning his back on the strange man in his kitchen. When he reached the window, he fumbled around for a moment, before finally opening it, since he dared not look at the window, and consequently away from the man. The creature that flew into the window was not an owl, though, but a large bird-of-prey. Harry, not having any expertise in ornithology, did not know exactly what kind of bird, but he did know that it looked extremely dangerous. It held an envelope in its beak, again not common for wizards.

"Well, I believe that's for you, Mr. Potter."

The voice of the old man, as melodious as it was, startled Harry, who was staring in awe at the bird sitting on the kitchen table. He cautiously approached the table (and therefore the old man). He reached out, and the bird deposited the letter in his hand before zooming out the window, at a speed Harry didn't think possible for a bird. His thoughts were only interrupted by the old man again speaking, urging him to open the letter. Throwing caution to the wind, he looked down at the letter, thinking that the old man would have already killed him, if he was going to.

He noticed that it was addressed in plain black ballpoint pen, the kind filling the desk in Vernon's study, rather than the pen and ink usually used by wizards. There was a large symbol in the upper left of the envelope, consisting of Earth surrounded by a ring of stars, over which was a crown, behind the Earth were two crossed swords, and in front of the Earth was wand, with three sparks around the tip. Harry did not recognize the symbol, so head read the address. Strangely, it was addressed the same as Hogwarts letters, "Harry James Potter, the Kitchen, 4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey, England." He tore the envelope open, and pulled out a thick piece of paper. On the paper was simple letter:

**Dear Mr. Potter:**

**This letter is to inform you that, per the order of His Grace the High Commissioner of Magic, you are exempt from all tenets of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Wizardry. By His decree, you are to be allowed to use any magic you desire in any way, shape, or form, in any situation. The various magical governments of the world will support your actions to the fullest, and will cover up your magic use, no questions asked. In addition, you are to be given permission to train in all activities usually restricted to wizards of majority age. Furthermore, you are to be allowed access to all parts of the Ministry of Magic, and access to all of its archives and libraries, again, no questions asked. By His decree, it is so.**

**Ever Your Humble Servant,**

**Samuel Riubeck**

**Lord Chancellor of Belluelle**

**On Behalf of His Grace Adrian Meditari, Archduke of Belluelle and High Commissioner of Magic**

Harry looked up, in a daze. He had to reread the letter three times to make sure he understood correctly.

"I can use magic, and do all this other stuff, 'no questions asked', and I don't even know this Meditari guy, or this other guy, Riubeck? What's going on here?" he wondered aloud.

"Well, I admit he went a bit overboard with the permissions, but it appears you no longer have to worry about being flooded with owls when you use magic. A stupid rule, in my opinion."

Harry jumped when he had first spoken; he had forgotten the old man was there. Now, though, he rounded on the old man.

"Who are you, and what do you know about this?" demanded Harry, who by now wanted some answers on what was going on.

The old man closed his eyes for a moment, sighed, and then started to speak. "I was sent to help you, Mr. Potter. He has realized that you need a little help to complete your task, and He sent me."

Harry heard the capitalization of "he" in the man's speech, and remembered the letter. "Did this Meditari guy send you?"

The old man smiled. "No, I was actually the one who told him to send that. My boss was rather miffed that you doubted his existence, and decided to give you a little help." He looked down at his watch. "Oh, well, look at the time. We should be going."

He walked around the table and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Well, shall we be going?"

Harry could only dumbly nod.

The old man laughed and then, in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

A/N: I took a part of this scene from a movie. Can anyone tell me which?


	4. Ubi Dumbledore Oppugnat, et, Legatus Ing...

_A/N: I had hoped to upload this on Friday, so as to get into the rythem of updating on Fridays, but I never got the to those with the correct answer to my question.I did indeed get the idea for Gabriel changing Harry's wand into a fish from the movie "Dogma". _

Albus Dumbledore considered himself to be a wise man. He had seen quite a bit in his life, and he was therefore rather hard to surprise. So it was a rare event indeed when his breakfast, which he was eating in the basement kitchen of Number 12, Grimmauld Place, was interrupted by a loud crack vaguely reminiscent of apparition.

Spinning around, with an agility not usually seen in men of his age, Dumbledore surveyed the two men standing there. He recognized one as Harry Potter, his pupil, who was supposed to be at his relative's house. The other man looked as old as Albus himself, but without the beard. He was dressed in long, flowing white robes. Behind them were what looked to be Harry's things. He recognized the school trunk and owl cage that he had seen Harry with on past occasions.

Albus didn't lower his wand, though, since he had noticed two things. One, Harry had his wand out. This was not unusual in and of itself, but in was when he considered that Harry was coming to Grimmauld Place, somewhere where he knew he would be safe. Why, then, would he have his wand out? Secondly, Harry looked relatively happy. When he had left the school less than a month earlier, he had been on the verge of depression over the death of his Godfather. Living in the presence of the Dursleys wouldn't have lifted his spirits. And Dumbledore himself had instructed Harry's friends to keep their letters short. So, surmised Dumbledore, Harry should be sad or angry. Certainly not happy.

Which led to the obvious conclusion that…

"Who are you, and why are you impersonating Harry Potter?" barked Dumbledore, taking a few wary steps back.

Of all the reactions Harry expected out of Dumbledore at their arrival, paranoid accusations were not among them. Not wanting Dumbledore to Avada Kedavra them in panic, he raised his hands, as if surrendering. However, the moment Dumbledore saw his hands begin to raise, he must of assumed that Harry was attacking, so he fired off an Avada Kedavra. An evil bolt of green light sailed from the end of Dumbledore's wand, right at Harry, who threw a chair in front of himself to avoid it. He then dove out of the room, and hid behind the door frame. Two more green bolts followed him out the door, impacting on the staircase. He had noticed that the old man who had brought him there had disappered again. 'Some help he was,' Harry thought.

"Stop, you crazy old coot!" yelled Harry, who was terrified of the power and ruthlessness with which Dumbledore was throwing out Unforgivables. "Stop trying to kill me!"

The stream of curses from the kitchen stopped, and he heard Dumbledore's voice.

"Harry? How do I know it's you?" he asked warily.

"Because you have a phoenix named Fawkes," yelled Harry, "and I just lost a Godfather named Snuffles."

Dumbledore scoffed at the initial remark; many knew the name of his phoenix. However, only a select few knew what Harry and his friends called Sirius Black, so he lowered his wand.

Harry risked a glance around the doorframe, and, seeing Dumbledore with his wand at his side, cautiously walked back into the kitchen, getting ready to dive to the side in Dumbledore tried to kill him again. Dumbledore had never been a tanned man, but now he looked as pale as a ghost. Harry could see him mouth the words, "I tried to kill Harry," over and over. His wand fell from his hand with a clatter, causing Harry to jump, and Dumbledore slumped down onto his knees. Harry then stepped forward, and eased Dumbledore into a chair at the table. For all Harry's attempts at getting his attention, though, Dumbledore seemed to be in another world. Finally, after much waving of hands and calling his name, Harry raised his wand and caused it to let off a gunshot. Dumbledore finally regained his sense, and then rounded on Harry.

"What in Merlin's name do you think you are doing! I can't bail you out every time you use magic outside of school. And that wasn't even accidental magic!" he railed, unaware of the less than pleased look on Harry's face. Finally, Harry had had enough.

"Enough, old man," he shouted, causing Dumbledore to stop speaking in shock, "after your little attempted murder, I've had about all I can stand from you. Now sit down, shut up, and let me explain."

Dumbledore, whether from fear or deference or mere shock at being spoken to in such a manner, immediately sat down. Harry noticed his eyes had lost their twinkle. 'Apparently, they only twinkle when he's in control,' thought Harry with some amount of disgust.

Suddenly, Harry noticed a slight pushing at the back of his mind. Almost as if someone was attempting to get in…

With a growing rage inside, Harry concentrated all of his effort on that point of attempted entry and rammed at it. He felt as if he had hit the intruder and they had gone flying. Harry chanced a look at Dumbledore and noticed the old man looking at him in mixed awe and horror. Now he understood why Dumbledore had sat down so complacently. He knew that it would give him the time he needed to try and probe Harry's mind with legilimency.

"Well," stammered out Dumbledore, "I now know it is truly you. I had to make sure. Only you and Tom Riddle himself could have thrown me out such as you did, and I would know if you were Tom…so…how DID you get here, and why aren't you worried about the bit of magic you used?"

"Now that you ask," smirked Harry, "a funny thing happened today…"

But what funny thing had happened, Harry never found out. For it was at that moment that the fireplace roared to life and spat out Cornelius Fudge and five Aurors, conspicuously wearing their badges on their cloaks. All had their wands out.

"Harry Potter!" yelled Fudge, who apparently didn't noticed Harry standing a few feet away. When one of his Aurors poked his shoulder and pointed to Harry, Fudge paled, and then his face reddened. He leveled his wand, and used it to punctuate his points.

"Harry Potter!" he bellowed, which left a ringing in Harry's ears from the close proximity, "you've crossed the line one too many times. Your friend Dumbledore may have managed to worm you out of the sentence you rightly deserved the last time, but no more. We detected you casting a Clamor charm just three minutes ago. Do you deny it?"

Dumbledore looked like he was going to speak, so Harry cut him off. "No, sir."

Fudge did a double-take; he had obviously expected Harry to deny it, or Dumbledore to try and get him out of it. A flat-out admission was the last thing he expected.

When the Minister got his ability to speak back, he smirked confidently and demanded Harry's wand, so that he could snap it. Again cutting Dumbledore off, he politely refused.

"Sorry, my dear Fudge, but I'm quite attached to my wand, and don't want to give it up just yet."

He then handed the letter from Belluelle to the Minister. Fudge originally paled at the sight, but then got his confidence back and laughed.

"A convincing forgery, Mr. Potter. I'll admit, you even had me fooled for a minute. However, it won't be enough." Seeing Dumbledore about to speak, it was now Fudge's turn to cut him off. "And there's nothing you can say, Albus, to get him off the hook this time." He then ordered the Aurors with him to arrest Harry and seize his wand. Preparing to fight rather than give up his wand, and now a little worried, Harry glanced back down at the parchment. Surprisingly, a new bit had been added since he had last read it.

**Just call out for me if you get into trouble with that prat, the Minister. He won't go down quietly. **

**Adrian**

Having nothing to loose, Harry resumed his confident smirk and called out "Oh Adrian, I could use a bit of help here." At first nothing happened. Then, a resounded crack was heard and no less than twenty soldiers, dressed in black uniforms with the symbol he had seen on the envelope on the arms, and powder-blue berets, appeared from nowhere. All had wands in black leather holsters at their sides, below which were short swords. The thing that set them apart most from the wizards, though, was that they all had sub-machine guns in their hands, connected to a black leather strap around their necks. The moment they arrived, they all leveled their guns at the Aurors advancing on Harry. The Aurors, for their part, stopped in their tracts at the sight of the soldiers, and slowly raised their hands. Another crack was heard, and another man appeared. He was tall, thin, and dressed in a black uniform like the soldiers. His, however, seemed to be that of an officer, due to the epaulets and lapel-pins he had. He, too, wore a powder-blue beret, but he also wore a cloak with the symbol, which Harry guessed was the seal of the High Commission of Magic, over his right breast. His sword was longer, and he did not carry a large gun, but a pistol in a holster at his side. He drew this and leveled it at Fudge.

"Drop your wand," he ordered, in a tone that clearly said "I'm in charge."

Fudge, rather than complying, blustered. "Who do you think you are! I am Cornelius Fudge, Minster for Magic! We are in the middle of conducting an arrest of a dangerous fugitive. Stand aside or I will have you arrested for obstruction of justice!"

"The only justice that could be done here would be blowing your brains out, but, as that's not an option," he sighed, holstered his gun, and drew his wand. With a slight flick, all of the ministry officials' wands flew from the hands of their owners to his own. Then, with another gesture in their direction, with an incantation of "Devincio", all of the officials' hands and feet were bond in glowing bands of energy. Most fell over when they tried to extricate themselves.

The officer walked up to the Minister, who had remained standing. Fudge started to shake as the man pointed his wand right at his throat, from only a foot away. The man said, "Boo," and Fudge passed out, falling in a heap on the floor. Laughing, the man then pushed all of the Ministry officials into a group, modified their memories en masse, and, with a final flick of his wand, they vanished.

Chuckling, the man stood up and said, "They'll learn not to mess with Adrian Meditari."


	5. Condicio Aetatis

_A/N: Here it is! The first of the regularly scheduled chapter updates. I admit that this is a very boring chapter to read, but it is essential to the background of the plot. Bear with me, please._

Everyone in the kitchen was now watching the young man. No one was making a sound as he worked. He was currently waving his wand in intricate patterns around the fireplace and muttering to himself. After a few moments, he seemed to finish, and the entire fireplace glowed red for a moment, and the glow then spread to the entire wall room, before returning to look like it always had. The man turned to the assembled crowd.

"We won't have any more uninvited guests," he chuckled.

Harry, having now finally gotten over the shock of what he had just witnessed, walked up to the man and extended his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Meditari," he said, with a trace of nervousness, "I'm Harry Potter."

"Ah, Mr. Potter, so good to finally meet you," said the Duke, who seemed genuinely pleased to meet him, "What do you say we get down to business?"

"Business?" said Harry, confused, "I wasn't aware we had any business."

"Yes, well, you don't know about it yet," he responded, as if this was the most logical statement in the world.

"Err…okay," said Harry, getting confused, "why don't we go sit in the parlor?" He paused. "Umm, do you really need your bodyguard now?" he asked, gesturing around to the group of soldiers patiently standing around the room.

"Oh!" exclaimed the Duke, seemingly just remembering his entourage. He turned to face them all and shouted, "Dismissed!" The troops then apparated away.

He then turned back to Harry and smiled. "Shall we?" he said, gesturing for Harry to lead the way. Remembering Dumbledore, Harry turned back to him. He was still sitting in the same seat at the table, frozen in shock at all he had seen. Smiling, Harry waved his wand and started levitating Dumbledore along with him. The Duke, seeing what Harry did, sighed and took out his wand.

"I expect we'll be receiving another visit from Minister Fudge soon," he said, "Best get ready."

Harry thought for a moment, decided something, nodded with a wicked grin, and then turned back to Adrian. "May I have a uniform like those?" he asked.

Adrian thought for a moment, and then said, "Yes, but this is going to take a moment to explain, and I wish for us to be interrupted. Hmmm."

He drew the long sword at his side and raised it in front of him. Spinning it in a circle in front of him, he yelled, "Tempum Gelo!"

They then continued to walk upstairs, Harry levitating Dumbledore along. When they reached the parlor, Harry noticed that the clock seemed to be broken, but ignored it. They both sat down, and Harry lowered the Headmaster onto a sofa. He then turned back to Adrian.

"Well, Mr. Potter," said Adrian, "where should I begin? Let's see, a few days ago, I was visited by a strange old man…"

The Duke then related the details of his meeting with the being known as Gabriel. When he finished, Harry then told of his experiences with who he assumed was the same person.

"It appears we are dealing with the same person," said the Duke, "who does not seem to be malevolent towards us. I have some theories as to who this 'Gabriel' is, but more research is required. In any event, after his visit, I ordered my secretary to get me every scrap of information that existed on you. Over the next few hours, I learned much about you and Voldemort. About the First War, your initial defeat of Voldemort, his return to activity, your subsequent hampering of his attempts to regain power, his second rise, and his current activities. I was disgusted with the British Ministry's handling of the crisis, and the…" He paused and thought for a moment.

"You know," he continued, "though the High Commissioner of Magic has absolute authority over all things magic, he cannot possibly handle the entire world by himself. Therefore, most of the authority of the Commission is delegated to regional administrators, known as the Prefects of Magic. They handle the business of the Commission in an administrative area known as a Prefecture. I could not understand why the Prefect for the British Isles did not take a more active role.

It was at this time that that same Prefect came bursting into my office, with a fake smile plastered on his face. He asked me why I was researching the First War, and you. I told him, and he paled. So I started questioning him about his activities during that period. When he was only able to stammer out one-sentence answers, I cast my mind back to my research. I had read that Voldemort's followers all had a peculiar tattoo of a skull with a snake on their arms. When I told him to roll up his sleeve, he blustered and dodged around the issue. So, I cast a spell that removed his shirt. There, plain as day on his arm, was the Dark Mark. When I demanded to know the meaning of this, he cracked and spilled everything. I then summoned a couple of guards who took the Prefect into custody. He was questioned, tried, and sentenced.

Yesterday, at dawn, he was put before a firing squad in the Quadratum Somniorum and executed for High Treason for selling out to Voldemort."

Adrian said this in an emotionless, detached voice. He then reached into an inside pocket, pulled out a white handkerchief, and wiped his brow. He sat for a minute with his eyes closed, then, he sat up, and looked a good deal more cheerful.

"Well," he said, "now we come to our business. I have determined, after researching you and the prophecy concerning you and Voldemort…" He paused at the look on Harry's face. "Don't look so surprised. Though each country keeps a copy of its prophecies, another copy is secretly sent, for safekeeping, to Belluelle, where it is kept in the Great Achieves.

Anyway, I have concluded it is imperative to the fate of the entire world that you have the power and authority to execute your appointed task Also, I am now without a Prefect for Britain. I have looked at your power and skill and concluded that you are more than up to the job. So, I am offering you the position, if you want it."

He sat back, waiting for a response.

"I'd advise you to take it, Harry," said a voice from Harry's left.

Harry jumped; he had forgotten that anyone else was in the room. Now, he turned to Dumbledore to see what he had to say.

The Headmaster had recovered from his stupor, and his eyes had resumed their manic twinkling. He was watching Harry with a small smile.

"Nice of you to have rejoined us, Professor. You heard everything?" At Dumbledore's nod, he continued. "What's you view on the whole thing?"

"You cannot do this alone, Harry," began Dumbledore, "and there are those who would help you. Unfortunately, our current government will do nothing to aid you. Indeed, as His Grace's situation shows, many of those who govern us are also in Lord Voldemort's employ. However, if you were Prefect of Magic, then you would be able to get all of the help you would need. There is only so much that the Order and I can provide you. Our resources are few, and stretched thin as it is. You need another source of aid, and I believe the Commission just might be that source." He then sat back, awaiting Harry's decision.

Harry sighed. 'The last thing I need is another oddity to add to my already extensive collection. A fifteen year old bureaucrat…' "What would be required of me?" he asked wearily.

The Duke seemed to take it as a good sign that Harry had not immediately turned him down, and set off at an excited pace.

"As Prefect of Magic for the British Isles, you would be required to defend and protect the magical community and ensure peaceful relations between magical and non-magical persons. You would be assisted by your Subterprefect, who would share your rights, immunities, and duties. I will leave this appointment for you to make. You must choose a place to make the new Praetorium, the new headquarters. Your salary is £100,000 per years, tax-free. You would be given protection by the Belluelle Guard Corps, and you would be inducted into the Holy Order of St. Belluelle. St. Belluelle is the patron saint of magic," he added, seeing the confused look on Harry's face.

"And I get one of those uniforms?" asked Harry.

"And you get one of those uniforms," said the Duke, smiling.

Harry looked at the floor to think for a moment. 'Sure,' he reasoned, 'this might help in the fight against Voldemort. And sure, it might help with Hermione, since girls love a man in uniform.' He chuckled at the mental image he got of Hermione swooning over him in his uniform. 'But do I really want another reason for people to single me out? I'm already The Boy who Lived and the World's Last, Best Hope Against Voldemort. Do I really want to be the highest ranking mage in all of England, to boot?' Then he looked up and saw the hopeful look in both of their faces. 'These people really do consider me their savior, don't they. Well, I can't really let them down, now can I?'

With that, he got up, walked over to Adrian, and extended his hand, while saying, "Well, Your Grace, you've got a deal."

He immediately looked greatly relieved at Harry's words, as did Dumbledore, and gladly shook Harry's hand. He then resumed his business-like demeanor.

"Well, then, there is much for us to do. You, my friend, are in desperate need of training."

"The Professor and his associates are already going to train me in more magic, right Professor?" he asked, looking pointedly at Dumbledore. Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, but then got the message and responded, "Why yes, of course."

"There are other things you should know. Things that the school can't or won't teach you. First of all, we need to bulk you up. A skinny little fifteen year old is not going to scare Voldemort. Besides, you need to know how to fight without a wand. Hand-to-hand combat is a start, but you then need to learn how to use a knife, a sword, and a gun. You should also know how to drive a car and fly a plane. You also need to learn, without a doubt, how to apparate. You should learn how to be an animagus, if you are one. You should have some training in legilimency, occlumency; I'll leave for them. Hmmm…"

"When will all this take place?" asked Harry.

"Everyone expects you to be at your relatives house for the rest of this month. We'll give them what they want." To Dumbledore he asked, "What is the absolute minimum amount of time that he can spend at his relatives while still preserving his protections?" Seeing the question coming, he added, "Don't worry how I know about them, just answer the question."

The Headmaster looked taken aback, but then responded, "He must, at the absolute minimum, sleep there at night."

"Good," said the Duke. "Each night, you will sleep at your relatives' house. During the day, you will train. I will place a holographic image at your house during the day, lest anyone find you to be gone. No one else besides us, and your trainers, of course, will know that you are not constantly at your house."

He thought for a moment. "Well, that's all I can think of. If you think of anything else, tell me. Otherwise," he reached into his pocket, pulled out what looked like a change purse, and laid it on the floor. Tapping it with his finger, it grew into a portfolio.

"That's something I need to know," interjected Harry, "how to do wandless magic."

"Sure," said Adrian, "but first, you need this." He reached into the portfolio, and pulled out a stack of papers. He handed it to Harry and told him to sign on the last page. The top of the first page said, "Commission for Regional Prefects".

"Let me see it, Harry," said Dumbledore. Harry handed the papers to Dumbledore, who pointed his wand at them and murmured, "Fraum Patefac." When the papers hadn't changed for a few minutes, he handed them back to Harry and said, "They're safe to sign."

Adrian chuckled at this, but Harry thanked him and, taking a pen from Adrian, signed his name. He handed the papers back to the Duke, who waved his hand over them, and was then holding a copy. He handed the copy back to Harry, ("For your records," said the Duke), and placed the originals into his bag. Reaching back in, Adrian pulled out a black wallet and a box that looked like it was for a large piece of jewelry. He handed the box to Harry first. Upon opening it, Harry found a medallion attached to a gold chain.

"That's your badge of office," explained the Duke.

The medallion bore the seal of the High Commission on a gold background. Around the edge, it read, "Harrius Iacobus Potter, Praefectus Magi Britanniae."

In the wallet was an ID card with his picture, name, etc. On the other side was a badge that resembled the medallion.

"So," said Harry, "this means I'm now the Prefect of Magic?"

"Yes, exactly," said the Duke.

"What else is there?" asked Harry.

"We still need to deal with the Minister," said Adrian, who waved his hand in a circle and said, "Tempum Solvo."

Harry heard a click and noticed the clock was working again. Not wanting to know how the Duke had frozen time, he contented himself with a puzzled stare. He suddenly heard a tapping, and saw an official-looking owl at the window. Adrian, sitting nearer to the window, stood up and took the letter. When he ripped it open, Harry saw the seal of the Ministry of Magic on the front.

"Damn," exclaimed Adrian, "I must of not properly obliviated the Minister. This is a subpoena. He must have gotten a bad premonition when he was going to come and arrest you again, so he is now summoning you to a trial. July 1st, in the Ministry of Magic. You can expect to be tried before the whole Wizengamot again, so be prepared."

"I believe, Harry," said Dumbledore, rising from his seat on the sofa, "that this may be beneficial to you. Fudge is sure to try and humiliate and break you, now that he knows there is solid evidence that you are a true criminal. There is really no excuse for the spell you cast. However, what better place to announce your new position than before the supreme magical court of England, along with the many Ministry personnel that will surely come. I would advise you to tell no one of your upcoming hearing, Harry. You still must be prepared, though, since I cannot defend you as I now am back on the Wizengamot. Check the library on the third floor for old law books. In the meanwhile," he turned to the Duke, "I'm sure that you have some way to disguise Mr. Potter's magical signature?"

"Manum Celo" muttered the Duke, waving his hand in front of Harry. "There, that should last until the hour of the trial. Your signature is just different enough to confuse the Ministry." He smiled. "Don't abuse it too much."

Harry laughed, but then looked serious. "How am I getting back to the Dursleys'. That Gabriel fellow isn't around."

"This will be your first lesson, then," Adrian grinned, "You need to know how to apparate; around wards, no less."

Harry gaped. "Doesn't it take months to learn how to do that? And how do I apparate around a ward? Isn't that impossible?"

"For the average wizard," responded the Duke, "You, however, are anything but average. I expect you will pick it up very easily. You should be able to become fully competent in it, as we have all day. Otherwise, I'll apparate you there myself."

Harry nodded, albeit somewhat warily. A thought then came to him. "How do you know all this stuff? Didn't you just learn you were a wizard and become Archduke a few weeks ago?"

The Duke laughed. "Those things I was doing were not spells as in the kind you read in a book. No book can teach you how to freeze time or change someone's magical signature. I am exerting my will, which is driving my magic to perform the task I will it to. The incantations are just there so that people don't know that I can cast spells without them. Not a very common ability, you understand. Luckily, I have some prior training in Latin, so I come up with incantations on the fly. As for the other talents, I showed a natural disposition for them, as I am sure you will. They were not hard for me to learn."

"Why does everyone use pre-made spells, then?" queried Harry.

"The majority of people," responded the Duke, "have neither the will, nor the concentration, to perform magic in that manner. It is through this manner, though, that apparition is achieved. That is why it is so hard for so many. In addition, it is very tiring to do magic like this. I rarely do so, but I felt the need to impress our dear Minister. These swords," he gestured to the sword at his belt, "are wands, so we generally use them."

"Ah," said Harry, who now understood. "So if I…" Harry closed his eyes and willed a glass of pumpkin juice to his hand. Much to his surprise, he then felt a weight in his hand. Opening his eyes, he saw the glass, exactly as he had imagined it. Looking around, he saw Dumbledore looking at him with a small smile, and Adrian with shock and awe.

"So…concentrate and will your body to another place," said he.

Once again closing his eyes, Harry imagined himself in his room at the Dursleys'. When he opened them again, he was delighted to find himself there. After making sure all of his limbs were still attached, he willed himself back to the parlor of 12 Grimmauld Place. This time though, he kept his eyes open. The world before him blurred, before refocusing into the parlor, and the faces of the Duke and Headmaster, full of admiration and respect.

"It appear you already have the 'circumventing wards' thing down, as well" the Duke pointed out. "I'll explain it later, or you can have your friend Ms. Granger explain it, as she probably already understands how it might be done, even though she herself probably cannot perform such a feat. This frees up quite a bit of time that I now do not have to teach you the finer points of wandless magic and apparition. I will not bother with anything today, so you have the day off. Tomorrow, however, we are going to visit some Muggle friends of mine in the British government. I suggest you do what you need today and then get some rest, as tomorrow will surely be a long day. Here is £10,000." He took a bunch of bills out of his pocket, still bound by the strip that was put on them when they were printed, and handed them to Harry. "Buy yourself some nice clothes and stuff, as we are going to see some important people. And now, I will take my leave of you. Good day, Mr. Potter, Headmaster Dumbledore."

With that, he bowed to Dumbledore, saluted Harry (who uncertainly saluted back), and then, with a pop, apparated away.

Dumbledore was the first to recover.

"Life around you is never boring, is it, Harry?"

_A/N: Wow, that was a long chapter. We are now returning to average chapter lengths. I'd also like to thank the 0.44 of people who read this story that reviewed. I'd like to see that number go up. Next up, clothes shopping with Dumbledore. Doesn't that sound like fun?_


	6. Dies ex Domo

_A/N: I finished early, so here's another chapter for your reading pleasure. Next one will still be out on Friday, though._

"It looks like we're going shopping, eh Professor?"

Dumbledore looked at him curiously.

"Well, I need to now pick up a few things, and since you are the only one who can know I'm out and about, and you probably won't let me go around alone, you're coming with me."

The Headmaster looked as if he was going to argue with Harry's logic, but then sighed, realizing that Harry was correct.

"Let's go then, we haven't got all day." Dumbledore got up and started for the door.

"Wait, Professor!" exclaimed Harry.

Dumbledore spun around.

"We're going into Muggle London. I doubt that robes are the best street attire," said Harry, smiling a bit at the image of Dumbledore walking down Saville Row in his robes.

Dumbledore stopped moving, slowly looked down at what he was wearing, and then his face reddened. With a quick "I'll be right back," he ran downstairs to the kitchen, and Harry heard him floo back to his office.

Now, with a bit of time, Harry started to wander about the mansion. He looked down at the packet of bills he still clutched in his hand.

'I have a lot of money, but that guy just handed me £10,000 as if he were giving me a pound for my troubles. I've got more Muggle money than I have ever had, or even seen.'

His ruminations on his money were cut short, however, when he heard the soft padding of feet along the rug in the entryway. Walking out, he saw a creature that he had sworn that, should he ever see again, he would kill. Sirius's house elf, Kreacher, who had betrayed Sirius to the Malfoys and thus to Voldemort, was walking down to the front door, muttering to himself.

"Yes, new masters will be most pleased when Kreacher tells them what he has heard. Filthy halfblood and Mudbloods. Dark Lord will soon kill them, yes he will."

Harry had heard enough. This was no longer a matter of vengeance. To protect his secret, Kreacher would have to die. He concentrated on a sword being in his hand, and received the sword he had seen Adrian wearing, with the seal of the High Commission on the middle of the cross-guard. He hid the sword behind his back and walked up behind Kreacher.

The house-elf, sensing he was not alone, spun around. When he saw who it was, a twisted smile played on his face.

"Well, well, well, the little halfblood. Kreacher was oh so pleased to hear what happened to his filthy Muggle-loving master. Kreacher did so enjoy hearing about his death…"

Harry had had enough, so he kicked out his foot, impacting with Kreacher right in his chest. He fell over, and when he lifted his head back up, that same head found itself severed and rolling down the hallway.

"Cleaning house, Harry?"

Harry spun around, sword still in hand, and was confronted with what had to be the most shocking sight he had ever seen.

Apparently, at one point or another, Professor Dumbledore had been a hippie, as he still had the clothes. He was wearing ripped jeans, a tie-dye shirt, and a bandana around his head with a peace sign in the middle. Surprisingly, if he had not known it was Dumbledore, Harry would not have given him the slightest look. Harry didn't know if his attire was exactly appropriate, but, in light of what else Dumbledore could have been wearing, it was preferable.

Remembering what the Headmaster had originally said, Harry once again turned his attention to Kreacher, and, with a disdainful wave of his hand, Harry turned Kreacher's body to ash. Opening the door, he conjured a breeze and blew the ash into the street, where the wind carried it away.

"Yes, I am," said Harry tersely, before walking out the door.

While he was walking, Harry broke the band on the money and put it in his new wallet. At the end of Grimmauld Place, Harry stopped, and Dumbledore caught up to him.

"Where are we going, Harry?" he asked, clearly lost in Muggle London.

"Well, Adrian said to look good, and there's only one place to go for that."

With that, he took off with a purposeful stride across the street.

"Harry, please, where are we going?"

"If you must know, we're off to Statfford Street, Number 8, to a shop by the name of Anderson and Sheppard."

"And how do you know that this man can get you what you need?"

"Easy, his business card is in the wallet Adrian gave me."

Smirking at this, Harry continued along the streets, saying little to Dumbledore along the way. To his credit, the Headmaster never complained about the distance, showing remarkable endurance.

They finally arrived at 8 Statfford Street, and entered the shop of Anderson and Sheppard.

A clerk came up to them at asked their business; clearly Harry, in his baggy clothes, and Dumbledore, in his old hippie garb, did not match their usual clientele.

However, when they said that they were told to come here by His Grace, the Archduke of Belluelle, and Harry showed the clerk that they could more than pay for it, they were quickly ushered into a private room, far away from the main room of the shop. Harry supposed that this was for the shop's magical customers, as a plaque above the door read, "Anderson and Sheppard, Purveyors of Apparel to the Minister of Magic Since 1820."

It had not been two minutes before a man came in to take Harry's measurements, and told him that the suits would be ready in a half hour ("because I would assume you would need more than one, sir"). According to the man, since they were wizards, the magical methods used to produce the suits exactly did not need to be kept secret, and the suits could be handed to Harry as soon as they were done.

True to their word, the tailor returned a half hour later with a large package. He handed it to Dumbledore, thinking he must have been Harry's servant or something. He paid the tailor £1,800 for the suits.

Walking along Bond Street, and with a pocketful of cash that he was obviously expected to spend, Harry decided to do a bit of shopping. Looking in his wallet, there were a number of shops mentioned, but one that was to the front of the pile was "Gemma and Sons, Fine Jewelers." This card had a star, drawn in highlighter, in the upper corner, as if to signify some sort of added importance.

Arriving at Gemma and Sons, Harry had the odd impression that only he could see it. It seemed that the eyes of those around him slid from the tailor to the left, to the shop selling handbags on the right. Remembering that he had had the same feeling the very first time he had visited the Leaky Cauldron, he assumed that this was a purely magical establishment.

Upon entering the store, a gong was heard sounding in the back of the room. Harry had a few moments in which to look around. The room was decorated with large, glowing, natural crystal formations, which provided an eerie light to the whole shop. On the walls, there stood display cases that probably held several million pounds worth of jewelry. The floors were made of a green marble, and the walls were a strange black stone. Gold chandeliers hung from the ceiling.

A door at the back of the shop opened, and out stepped a short, balding man, who had a loupe over his eye, and was wearing a tailcoat (ordinarily not that odd, but in an shop that's not air conditioned during a summer day when the temperature is exceeding 35º, it's kind of creepy). He approached Harry, looked at him closely for a minute, and then turned to the back of the store and started walking away.

"Um, excuse me?" said Harry uncertainly.

"What is it?" drawled the man, with a far-too-arrogant tone for a jeweler.

"Can you help us?" asked Harry, confused.

"I thought I was already doing that. His Grace sent you, did he not?"

"Well, yeah."

"You are the new Prefect, right?"

"Yeah…"

"Then I am going to get your ring," he responded, before disappearing behind a door in the back of the room.

Puzzled beyond belief, Harry merely waited, looking around again. It was then that he noticed that Dumbledore had not followed him into the shop. He spied him across the street, window shopping. Not knowing that Dumbledore owned a single item made of leather, Harry watched him look at a leather jacket before going inside the shop. Imagining the mess that would be created by Dumbledore trying to use Wizard money in the shop, he shook his head and turned back towards the inside of the store, catching the jeweler coming back into the room.

He was carrying a black box with him that looked as if it would fit a ring. He approached Harry, handed him a loupe similar to the one that he was wearing, and then handed him the box, opened to reveal a gold ring.

Putting in the eyepiece, Harry examined the ring, really having no idea what he was looking for. The ring was large, with the symbol of the High Commission surrounded by a ring of what looked like solid diamond.

"What is this?" he queried.

"Why, your signet ring, of course," replied the jeweler, seemingly annoyed.

He paid £3,000 for his ring, and walked out to meet Dumbledore, who was now sporting a genuine leather coat with matching boots, seemingly elated about the whole thing.

"You can't buy anything like this in Diagon Alley," he said excitedly.

"Um, sure," said Harry, striding towards a watchmaker to get a new watch to finally replace the one he had broken his fourth year.

More than four hours later, and heavily laden down with packages, Harry and Dumbledore finally began the walk back to Grimmauld Place. Harry had exhausted the entire amount that Adrian had given him, but now had an entirely new wardrobe. And he looked a lot better in his new clothes, if he did say so himself. Imagining Hermione's reaction to the new, finely dressed, clean-cut Harry, he hardly noticed when they arrived back at Number 12. Only a sharp poke from the Headmaster alerted him to the fact that they had arrived.

Watching Dumbledore floo back to Hogwarts laden with stuff that he had bought (most of which was pairs of socks), Harry sighed, regrettably having to now go back to Privet Drive. With a thought, he found himself in his bedroom, just in time to see himself enter and close the door. With a cry and a quick drawing of his wand, Harry whirled around to face the strange clone. However, the clone (or whatever it was) seemed to not be worried about Harry's aggression, and stared down the length of Harry's wand.

"I'm made of light, you can't really hurt me," said the fake Harry.

"Light? What are you on about!" demanded Harry.

"I'm the hologram Lord Adrian put here to disguise the fact that you're not here. I've been enchanted with intelligence and a personality to match yours. And now that you're here, I'll fade away…"

With that, the apparition vanished, leaving a sad Harry behind; he had been hoping for some company. He didn't care if his relatives thought him talking to himself.

Looking around his dismal excuse for a room, and remembering his ability to do magic now, Harry decided a little redecorating was in order. Grabbing his wand, he set out to make himself a real room.

Two hours later, Harry was finally satisfied with his living arrangements. Having no idea of the generally accepted spells for interior design, but with an unusual aptitude for magic by thought and will, he thought he had done a pretty good job.

His room had been enlarged greatly, now being about three times the size, with an adjoining bathroom and closet. He figured it probably wasn't a good idea to have suits in his dresser. His dresser had been enlarged, to fit his new wardrobe, his lamps had been enlarged to provide adequate reading light, and his bed had been transformed into the bed he had at school. He now had a bookcase that could fit all his books, so he didn't need to keep everything in his trunk all summer long. A desk held his parchment and quills, and a comfortable chair sat in front of it. He had even managed to conjure a computer. At least, he thought it was a computer. It seemed to perform exactly as Vernon's did, except it had nothing inside. When Harry had opened the computer's tower, he found it to be completely empty. Another thing that was probably a little off was that it didn't plug into an electrical outlet. Not wanting to know how it ran or what it was running on, he had left it alone. The walls had been changed to a luxurious mahogany paneling (he had seen it in a house when his uncle had been watching television, and had loved it, so he decided to replicate it.). The floor, however, had a simple, soft carpet. He had wanted to try to turn the floor to solid marble, but not knowing the effect this would have on the rest of the house, he had refrained from doing so.

Harry was just looking into installing a fireplace (for convenience), when there was a knock at his door. Considering this extremely odd, Harry drew his wand and walked to the door. Throwing it open, he found the end off his wand pointing at his uncle's face, which had just turned the color of porridge.

"What are you doing with that…**thing** out, boy!" his uncle screeched, and then, looking beyond Harry into the room, his jaw dropped.

"What…what…what have you done!"

Calmly explaining that since he now had permission to do magic (something that caused his uncle to go ghostly white), he decided to improve his room a bit. After reassuring his uncle that he would notice nothing from the changes, he shut the door in his uncle's face without even finding out what he had wanted in the first place.

After installing his solid black marble fireplace (he couldn't help it, he had a flair for design), his stomach reminded him that humans do need to eat. He then realized that he had been so busy today, the only thing he had eaten was a burger he had picked up while with Dumbledore.

He really didn't want to go down and see his relatives; he was determined to meet his friends at the end of the month looking well-fed.

His skills at conjuring might have been great, but he really didn't trust his stomach to them.

While pondering this, he suddenly came up with a brilliant idea.

Dobby was having a miserable holiday; it just wasn't the same without Great Harry Potter around to keep things interesting. So imagine his surprise when the great fireplace in the kitchens roared to life and spat out Harry Potter.

"Harry Potter, sir, you've come to see Dobby!" And he then hurled himself at Harry's midsection.

Shortly after thanking his lucky stars that the conjured floo powder worked, Harry was almost knocked over by a force hitting him square in the stomach.

After placating Dobby, he looked around the kitchen, his mouth watering. He had never appreciated the cooking skills of house-elves like he did now. As if sensing his thoughts, five elves appeared in front of him, bearing a single platter between them. On it was a juicy steak with roast potatoes and some green vegetable that Harry didn't recognize. Digging in to this feast, Harry made small talk with Dobby.

"Master Harry, sir?" said Dobby timidly.

"Harry, Dobby, just Harry."

"Harry, sir?"

'Good enough.'

"What, Dobby?"

"Dobby had heard what Harry Potter has done to that nasty Kreacher. Dobby thinks you have done the right thing. Kreacher betrayed his master. He then needed to die. It is house-elf way," said Dobby seriously.

"Thanks, Dobby, though I doubt Hermione will see it that way.

Thinking about Hermione brought about another round of day-dreaming. Hermione looked so cute when she was mad (at someone else).

Only by the tenth poke in the shin did Harry realize Dobby had something else to say.

"Harry, sir, Dobby was wondering. Now that Harry has no house-elf to take care of him, Dobby was wondering…would Harry like Dobby to come and work for him?"

The elf was looking at Harry with such hope in his eyes that Harry found it nigh impossible to say no.

"That would be wonderful, Dobby," said Harry with a smile.

"Yay! Dobby will be the bestest house-elf ever, Master Harry, sir!"

His joyous face then returned to look serious.

"But Dobby can't leave Winky alone here…"

"Winky can work for me, as well," said Harry with a grin.

"Oh, Master, Master is too kind to Dobby!"

He sprinted to the other side of the kitchen, grabbed an elf (who Harry recognized as Winky), and sprinted back to the table Harry was sitting at.

"Winky, we are going to work for Great Master Harry Potter!"

Winky was dazed for a moment after hearing this, and then fell crying at Harry's feet.

After finishing his dinner and telling his new house-elves to clean out 12 Grimmauld Place for his home, Harry flooed back to his now-suite and proceeded to shower and change for bed.

Closing his eyes, Harry's final thoughts before going to sleep were,

'Now this was an interesting day."

Harry Potter is the new king of understatements.

_A/N: Ummm…yeah, this one kind of got a bit longer than I was planning. Wasn't even planning on the whole Dobby affair. We're up to 0.71 of readers reviewing, and we can do better! Stay tuned for Harry meeting some cool guys and getting even more cool stuff. And perhaps Hermione may make an appearance in the next chapter…_


	7. Mane Primum Relinqua Partis Vitae Suae

_A/N: Alright people, here's your regular Friday update. Enjoy!_

The Next Day…

Harry awoke at 6:00 in the morning due to his nervous excitement. Deciding he might as well get an early start on the day, he got up, showered, and then went to his closet and got out one of the suits he had bought the previous day.

Laying out the various pieces of the suit on his bed, Harry dressed. Unfortunately, he had never bothered to learn how to tie a tie, never having needed this skill. In fact, before today, he had never owned a real tie (school ties didn't count, as they tied themselves). However, now holding a fine silk tie, he had no idea what to do. Not daring magic to tie it, since he assumed correctly that you had to know how to do something to make your magic do it for you (hence his empty computer), Harry was at a loss for what to do. He doubted Dumbledore knew how to tie a tie, and anyone else would ask question, not the least of which being why he was wearing an expensive suit to begin with.

After trying and failing for the fifth time in a row, Harry heard a series of heavy footsteps outside his door. His uncle was going to work. Getting desperate, and swallowing his pride, Harry went and opened his door.

"Uncle Vernon?" he asked, timidly.

Ten minutes later, Harry was back in his room with his tie tied and a working knowledge of the art so he would never have to ask for his Uncle's help again. His Uncle hadn't refused to help, but throughout the ordeal, he had been making snide comments about magic not being able to help when it came to the real world. Vernon had apparently been made aware of Harry's new situation by Adrian, who had come to Number 4 after leaving Number 12. Therefore, he didn't ask any questions about Harry's new attire. Harry put on his new Rolex (he couldn't resist buying one, as he had plenty of money), and, as an afterthought, slipped on his signet ring. He didn't really like the flashy, showy design, but something compelled him to wear it anyhow. He had a feeling he hadn't received it for nothing.

Wanting to get himself some breakfast, Harry apparated to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, again catching Dumbledore in the middle of his breakfast. This time, however, Dumbledore didn't try to kill Harry, but merely wished him a "Good Morning". Sitting down across from Dumbledore, Harry was surprised by the arrival of a house-elf in the middle of the table. Dobby bowed to Harry and then asked what he would like for his breakfast. Harry ordered ham and eggs, and Dobby disappeared, presumably to go and make ham and eggs.

"Professor, there are some things I've been wondering about and I was hoping you could clear up for me," said Harry, who was being driven insane by a few things that had happened the previous day.

"And what would those be, Harry?"

"First," began Harry, "how did all those people get into Grimmauld Place yesterday, even with the Fidelis Charm in place?"

"The man you arrived with, I believe you called him Gabriel, I know nothing about. I can see how the Duke got around the travel wards, but I don't know how he got around the Fidelis Charm. The Minister and his Aurors, however, is my fault. I gave him and some of his 'most trustworthy Aurors' the location of this place, but I placed a special memory charm on the knowledge, so that only if he believed that there was a great emergency would he remember and thus be able to come here. He was quite panicked after the incident in the Ministry of Magic,' he added, seeing the outraged look on Harry's face.

"I did not count, however, on him believing that you getting away with another crime would be a great emergency."

Harry chuckled at this, remembering Fudge's outrage.

"I do believe, however, that Adrian's memory charm erased the knowledge from their memories. Even if it didn't, he also secured the fireplace, so the Minister will not be visiting us again any time soon."

"Thanks, Professor, I was wondering about that."

"Now, Harry, I have a question for you."

"What is it, Professor?"

Dumbledore sat back in his chair, and folded his hands. "Minerva has come to me with a great problem, and I need your help with it."

Harry, wondering what problem he could help solve that Dumbledore and McGonagall combined could not, listened with attention.

"I really regret having to ask you this, Harry. I know you have enough 'on your plate', so to speak."

Harry was beginning to get worried about where Dumbledore was taking this.

"You see, Harry, Professor McGonagall loves her House very much."

'Spit it out, old man,' thought Harry.

"She loves seeing those Cups in her office, especially the Quidditch Cup."

As soon as Dumbledore mentioned Quidditch, Harry was able to relax. Anything mention in the same breath as Quidditch couldn't be too serious.

"It is time to select a new captain for the Gryffindor team, and Professor McGonagall would like to select Ron Weasley."

Harry was happy at hearing this; he thought Ron would make an excellent captain.

"So, what's the problem, Professor?"

"Well, the school code is very specific about who can hold a position in a House. To hold multiple positions, one must have a very high grade average. And, as you well know, Mr. Weasley's grades are not quite stellar."

Harry smiled, and imagined what Mrs. Weasley would say if she could hear Dumbledore calling Ron's grades "not quite stellar".

"Professor McGonagall would prefer, and I believe he would, as well, for Mr. Weasley to be the team captain, but this would require him to give up his prefect's badge. In which case, the badge would pass to the person who originally was the most qualified for it."

Harry knew what was coming next.

"As you know, since we discussed this in my office at the end of last year, you would have been the Gryffindor male prefect, but I didn't think that you would much like it, what with everything else you had on your mind. Now, though, things are different. You seem to be able to calmly manage having all of this on your shoulders, I doubt that being a Prefect will phase you. So, I am now doing what I should have done at the beginning of last year. Harry, would you like the badge?"

Harry sat back to think. 'Hmmm, Dumbledore's right; along with everything else, being a Prefect will seem trivial. And it would mean I would get to spend all that time alone with Hermione in the school at night…"

As usual, when he started to think about Hermione, Harry's mind wandered off for a few moments. His reverie was only interrupted by Dobby appearing on the table with a platter of ham and eggs, along with a pot of coffee, a pitcher of juice, and a basket of toast. When Dobby popped away, Harry looked at Dumbledore, who was watching him steadily.

"If I refuse, who is next?"

"Hmm," said Dumbledore, thinking, "I think it would be Mr. Finnigan who would be the next in line."

Seamus, with his Irish temper and his low regard for the rules, would have been Harry's last choice for Prefect. So, keeping all that he had thought about in mind, he did the only thing he could do.

"Sure, Professor, count me in."

For some reason, Dumbledore looked relieved, and nodded.

"Very good, my boy. You would have made Lily and James proud."

Harry blushed at being compared to his parents, and concentrated on his breakfast.

Around 8:00, Harry, have finished his breakfast, was found in the parlor. Dumbledore had returned to Hogwarts, after wishing Harry luck. He had seemed relieved when he had left, and Harry knew why. He had been worrying that Harry would confront him for his attack on Harry, using Unforgivables, no less. Harry understood, and no more would be said, unless Dumbledore decided to explain it himself. He didn't know exactly how Adrian was arriving, so his ears were trained for the slightest sound.

Suddenly, he heard the sound of a large engine outside in the street. Knowing that none of the other inhabitants of Grimmauld Place had a car that sounded like that, he looked out the window. He was just in time to see a large car roll into the street. The car was a black Rolls-Royce Phantom, driven by a Belluelle guard. The car stopped outside where Number 12 would be, and the driver got out and opened one of the rear doors.

Adrian stepped out, this time without his cloak, and looked around. For some reason, it seemed as if he couldn't see Number 12. The driver got back in.

Realizing that Adrian couldn't see the house, Harry stepped outside. Adrian jumped when he saw Harry appear from nowhere, but calmed when he realized that Harry was merely leaving the house.

Harry shook Adrian's hand, and they both got into the car.

"Where are we going today?" questioned Harry.

"You'll see," said the Duke cryptically.

Harry sat back, slightly nervous, waiting for them to arrive.

Twenty minutes later, in which little was said, the car pulled through a gate into a fenced parking lot next to a white stone building.

The driver hopped out and opened Harry's door. They walked up to the side of the building, where a metal door was placed to allow access from the parking area. Two soldiers were stationed on either side of the door. Like Adrian, they didn't wear their robes out in public. When they saw who it was that was approaching, both pulled themselves to attention and saluted them as they went to the door. Seeing that Adrian was not saluting, Harry realized the guards were saluting him. He awkwardly returned their salute, determined to ask Adrian how to salute properly. One of the guards held open the door for them.

They entered a dimly lit hallway, in which the floor was concrete and the walls brick painted white. The only illumination was a few bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. They finally reached the end of the hall, which terminated in a plain wooden door. Harry tried to open it, but it was locked tight. When he asked Adrian about a key, he only smiled and told him to wave his signet ring in front of the handle. When Harry did so, he heard the click of the lock releasing. The door creaked open…

_A/N: I know, I'm cruel, but it seemed the best place to end it. Thank you to the 0.81 of people who review; you really make my day. _

_I know some have wanted some translations of the chapter titles, so here you go:_

_In the Beginning_

_The Commissioner is Surprised_

_The Arrival of an Angel_

_Author's Notes_

_When Dumbledore Attacks, and, The Commissioner Makes an Entrance_

_The Proposal of a Lifetime_

_A Day out of the House_

_The First Morning of the Rest of His Life_


	8. Finis Innocentiae

_A/N: Beware, cliffhanger ahead!_

The unmarked door had led into a rotunda, of sorts. Three stories above them, a great dome was painted a dark blue, with a myriad of silver stars sparkling down at them. To the left, a sweeping marble staircase led to a balcony, and presumably to the upper levels. To the right, there were large stained glass windows casting the whole hall into a colorful rainbow, flanking a ornate wooden door out to the street. While Harry have been observing the décor, Adrian, having had been a number of times, had already started to stride towards the staircase. Harry ran to catch him, and caught up at the top of the stairs.

Right in the middle of the wall at the top of the stairs, an ornately carved wooden door stood slightly ajar. Adrian gave it a shove, and it creaked open (all this money and they can't afford to oil the doors?). Inside, a uniformed man sat at a carved hardwood desk. Wizarding portraits hung along the walls, and though Harry did not recognize any of the subjects, they all seemed to know who he was judging by their. The desk was flanked by two flags in stands on the floor. On the left, there was the flag of the United Kingdom, and on the right, the ubiquitous seal of the High Commission was on a white background.

The man looked up as Harry and Adrian entered, and, upon seeing Harry, he stood and saluted. Harry returned the salute, but was getting rather tired of everyone saluting him. He and Adrian approached the desk. The man stepped out from around it, and pulled out the chair for Harry. Uncertain why the man was offering the desk to him, Harry sat down.

Either the man was stronger than he looked, or Harry really was malnourished, since the man was able to easily push the chair back in. Harry made a mental note to use his new authority to get a few good meals.

Adrian and the man took seats on the other side of the desk. After a few seconds of silence, the man began.

"Welcome, Your Lordship. I am Cyril Moore, and served as the Secretary to the Prefect under your late predecessor. By your leave, I would like to continue in that post."

The last part was phrased as a question, the answer of which Harry didn't know. He looked over at Adrian, who gave an almost unperceivable nod. Harry looked back at Cyril.

"You are welcome to continue your service, Mr. Moore."

The man looked greatly relieved, and bowed his head. "You are most kind, your Lordship."

Harry, worrying that he had another Dobby in the making, had to ask. "Why do you keep calling me 'Your Lordship'?"

"It's your title, your lor…"

"Don't say it." He turned to Adrian. "What is my full title?"

"You are 'His Lordship Harry James Potter, P.C., Lord Commissioner of Magic, Prefect of Magic for the British Isles,' I gave you the Prefect title, and, by virtue of being the Prefect, you are the Lord Commissioner of Magic, and a member of the Privy Council. So you also have ranking in the British government. Fudge will have a bird," he cackled evilly.

"Great, more titles. That's just what I need," groaned Harry.

"Anyway," said Adrian, "we need to get you your stuff. Nice suit by the way. You've got good taste."

Harry didn't have the heart to tell him that the tailor had picked it out for him.

Adrian reached over to the phone on the desk and pressed a button. A dial tone filled the air. He then pressed a few numbers and the tone was replaced by a ringing. A few seconds later, a man's voice answered.

"V here."

"V, bring the stuff up."

"Yes, Your Grace."

They waited in silence for a few minutes, when there was a knock at the door. Cyril got up and opened the door. Harry saw a brief glimpse of an old man with white hair before the door was shut again and Cyril returned to the desk with a small cardboard box. He laid this in front of Harry.

Taking the initiative, Harry drew his wand, and with a murmured Severing Charm cut the tape holding the top of the box closed. Opening the box, Harry found it full of various things. Lying on top was a large silver revolver and a few boxes of ammunition. Harry picked the gun up and weighed it in his hand; it was remarkably light. He spun his chair around and pointed the gun out the open window behind the desk, which overlooked an enclosed courtyard. He then fired.

Nothing happened.

Looking back at the two people in the office with him, Harry saw Cyril looking nervous and Adrian barely suppressing a laugh. Cyril spoke up at an angry glance from Harry.

"Um, my Lord, the…..the safety is on," he finally said, gesturing to a switch on the side of the gun. Never having seen a revolver with a safety, Harry flicked it to the opposite position. He then aimed the gun out the window. Adrian, finally looking up, gave a shouted "No!" before Harry pulled the trigger.

Harry was thrown across the desk at the enormous recoil from the gun. He landed unceremoniously on top of Adrian. The barrel of the gun was still slowing from the high speed it had been spinning at. Harry only then glanced back at the window. He couldn't believe what he had done.

Where there had been a wall with windows, there was now only a gaping hole.

"At least you weren't standing up when you fired, or you would have broken your neck. A person who never fired a gun in their life, much less a magical one, should not start out with the gun on the Suppression Fire setting."

Harry turned to Adrian, who was speaking while performing cleaning charms on his clothes. Harry noticed his new suit was now full of dust, so he drew his wand again and used a few cleaning charms of his own.

"What did that gun do?" he asked in awe.

"It propelled bullets, like an ordinary gun. Except, since you had it on that setting, it fired all six bullets at once in a spread pattern, and gave them a magical boost. Each was traveling at such speeds that they took the entire wall with them. Firing it on that particular setting takes a bit of getting use to."

Adrian then walked over to the new door to the courtyard (via a 15 m drop) and levitated all of the debris lying in the courtyard (which luckily had not hit anyone), and repaired the wall.

Harry gingerly laid the gun back down and picked up the next item in the box, which appeared to be a laptop computer. Not taking any chances, Harry handed it to Adrian so that Adrian could show him how to use it.

"This is an ordinary laptop, with a few additions," began Adrian. "Firstly, and most importantly, it is shielded against magical interference with its current so you can use it in highly magical places like Hogwarts or the Ministry of Magic without any problems. . In a computer, electrical current flows through circuits. We have found that magic, for some odd reason, causes electricity to surge through wires and thus critically damage circuits. Through extensive research (and a couple of thousand circuits), we have found that surrounding each individual circuit in niobium and making the wires from niobium somehow prevents this. This is really strange, as niobium has superconductor properties. Then we found out that niobium corrodes when in contact with air, more so when the temperature is high. So we had to shield the niobium, as well. Therefore, these computers are not easy to make, so you're not getting another one. Guard it well.

Secondly, it is able to access our networks from anywhere in the world. Investigate the networks for yourself; I haven't the time to explain all of that to you. And finally, it is keyed to you specifically. Here, let me show you." He turned it on, prompting the computer to ask for a fingerprint for identification. Adrian told Harry to place his finger on a small pad below the keyboard. When he did so, his fingerprint appeared on the computer screen, which then changed to read, "Welcome, Lord Potter."

Harry groaned at having yet another sycophant, but put the computer aside and pulled out another item, this one being a cell phone. Harry saw an identical cell phone in the box.

"These are secure cell phones so that you can always communicate with your Praetorium, Belluelle, and your Subterprefect, whomever you choose to fill that role."

Placing them aside, Harry reached his hand into the box again, and pulled out something that made his breath catch. He had withdrawn the keys to a car, on a keychain with a symbol that he had never seen. It was a pair of wings with the words "Aston Martin" written across the middle.

"Those are the keys to your new car. You will, of course, need to be taught to drive, and we will need to get you a license (No problem with the kind of power you have). After then, you will have an untraceable method of transit when it comes to wizards. No matter how hard they try, a broom…er….those available to the public anyway, cannot keep up with an Aston Martin. And I doubt most Death Eaters know how to drive, much less engage in a high-speed chase. Unless they equip all the Death Eaters with Firebolts, and those Death Eaters are expert fliers, they won't be able to catch you. Plus, a car is always a good thing to have. You have a Aston Martin DB9 Volante, by the way."

"Is that a good car?" asked Harry, having little experience with them.

"A good car? That's about the best car you're ever going to see!" exclaimed Adrian.

"Sorry I asked," said Harry, "What else is in here?" while gesturing to the box.

"Not much. There are a few books on advanced magical theory, and a couple of Auror field manuals on how to avoid someone who's following you, how to kill a man before he can scream, etc."

"Um…o.k., those should come in useful," said Harry doubtfully. "Is there anything else you need to give me?"

"Your uniform is being made, so until that's done, no. Your training schedule will proceed thus: Apparate here, to your office every day. Once you know how to drive, you will be expected to drive here every day for practice. While here, you will be trained by the best we have, experts in various fields such as marksmanship, hand-to-hand combat, and public speaking. We can't have our new Prefect tripping over his words, can we?" he responded to Harry's confused look.

"Anything else?"

"Well, yes, there is one more little thing…" began Adrian hesitantly.

"What is it?" demanded Harry.

"Yes, um, your swearing-in ceremony is to be held on the twenty-fifth. For that, though, you will need to appear before the full commission, so you will need to come to Belluelle City itself."

"Who makes up the Commission?" asked Harry.

"The High Commission of Magic is made up of each and every Prefect and Subterprefect, along with me, of course."

"Why do I need to be sworn in? Aren't I already the Prefect?"

"Yes, but per tradition, you must be appointed before the entire commission. Oh, and you will need your Subterprefect with you, as he or she will be sworn in after you. So you should get around to choosing one sometime within the next 15 days."

'Great,' thought Harry.

June 24th…

Harry smacked his alarm with the side of his hand to shut it up. He struggled out of his bed; he shouldn't have made his bed sheets so comfortable, it was too hard to get up in the morning. He then proceeded to get ready. Looking in his closet, though, he forewent his uniforms for a simple black suit. He had had to get new suits, as his old ones didn't fit anymore due to the fact that he was a lot more muscular now than he had been at the beginning of the summer. He put on everything but his suit jacket, fastened a black leather holster on, and put in his wand and sidearm. He then put on his jacket, concealing the fact that he was carrying a weapon.

On his finger he slipped his signet ring. He put on his watch, and slipped his wallet into an inside pocket of his jacket along with a small box. He had made sure to put a few thousand pounds into his wallet the night before; it seemed odd now, that carrying that much money around with him did not seem odd at all. Only a few weeks before, he would never have considered carrying that much money, in either Muggle or Wizard currencies. Now he carried that to go to lunch.

Finally, he put a pair of mirrored sunglasses on to protect himself from the sun, as it was supposed to be a very bright day. Harry thought so too, but for different reasons.

Getting into his car, he started it and pulled out of the Dursley's driveway. Their neighbors had been a bit surprised at an Aston Martin suddenly parking in the driveway, but his Aunt had silenced any questions with a withering glance. When his Aunt tried to berate him for it, he then proceeded to silence her with his own withering glance, which carried a lot more power than his Aunt's could.

Pulling onto the A3 to head toward London, Harry felt strangely nervous at what he was about to do. He shrugged it off by thinking, 'It's only Hermione."

'Only Hermione?' asked the part of his brain that spoke with her voice. That voice was quite annoying at times.

'Only Hermione?' it asked again. 'The girl you're secretly in love with? The girl you'd do anything for? The girl…'

"Enough!" he shouted, and then he realized that he was arguing with himself. 'Alright, so maybe this time is different from all the other times we've seen each other. I need to focus…'

Without knowing, he had arrived at the address that the computer had provided. Adrian had been right; the Commission networks held a trove of information like no other. It was scary how much information he could find out about anyone.

Getting out of his car, Harry surveyed Hermione's house for the first time. It was a cute little house, located near a park just outside the south end of London. It was three stories, with a chimney large enough for a man to slip down and provide cover fire for a raid…

'I have to learn to turn that off,' thought Harry sullenly.

In the driveway was parked a silver Mercedes Benz. That, and the size of the house, proved Hermione came from a well-off family. Walking up to the front door, black with a silver knocker, Harry took a deep breath and pushed the doorbell.

What seemed like an eternity later, though it probably was not a few seconds later, the door opened.

The woman who opened the door was unmistakably Hermione's mother. The same bushy brown hair, the same large brown eyes that seemed to pull one into their depths…

Harry was broken from his reverie by the woman speaking to him in a voice that was completely different from Hermione's.

"May I help you?" she said in a kind voice.

"Umm, yes, I am a representative from the Ministry of Magic," he showed his badge, "and I was sent here to see a Miss…," he pretended to think about it for a minute, "Hermeenomy Granger?"

"You mean Hermione? Oh no, what has she gotten herself into now?"

A feeling of great anxiety was coming off of her, easily detected by Harry's new skill in empathy, so he decided to calm her.

"Oh no, Mrs. Granger, I assure you there is no problem. Actually, there are things that are getting better every day. Now is Hermione around?"

Hermione's mother seemed to relax at this, and motioned to a room to her right while stepping away from the door.

"Please wait here in the parlor, and I'll run and fetch Hermione."

Harry moved to the Granger's parlor while Mrs. Granger started to climb the stairs to what Harry assumed was Hermione's room.

Hermione Jane Granger was experiencing a feeling that she had never felt before. She was feeling restless. At any other time in her life, she could pick up a book at a moment's notice and become lost in the pages. Ever since she had returned from school, though, she seemed to not be able to focus on much of anything.

Unlike usual, her homework was not already done; in fact, she had barely started it. She spent her days listless, either pacing or staring out her window. Her parents had started to worry about her, regardless of her many assurances that she was fine.

She was consumed with one thought, one scene in her head. When she had been cursed in the Department of Mysteries, she had thought she was going to die. And when she did, the last thought she had had before she lost consciousness was 'I'll never see Harry again." She was greatly confused. Why would the reason she would want to keep living be to see Harry again? She hadn't thought of her parents, or school, or any one of her other friends, not even Ron. She had only thought of Harry, and how sad he would be if she ever left him.

After ruminating on the subject for the entire week since she had returned, Hermione had come to a startling conclusion, supported by her memories of her time at Hogwarts. She was completely and utterly in love with Harry.

Figuring this out only made Hermione worse. She so much wanted to see Harry, to talk to him, but the only way she could would be through owl, and she had been forbidden by Dumbledore before they had left school that she should not disclose anything in her letters, as the enemy might be watching. She assumed that telling Harry she loved him might constitute a disclosure, so she refrained, keeping it all bottled up inside until she felt like she wanted to burst.

She was rereading Harry's last letter for the thousandth time when there was a knock at the door. Startled, as her parents rarely disturbed her when she was reading, she got up and opened the door. She was greeted by the sight of her mother, who looked visibly flustered.

"Hermione, dear, you have a visitor," said her mother.

_A/N: Well, we have 0.86 of readers reviewing. Our goal is 1. Can we make it?_


	9. Sacrementum et Osculum

_A/N: You thought the last cliffhanger was bad? This one is exponentially worse. Mwahahahaha!_

Harry was spending his time pacing around the Granger's parlor, which was quite large. He was vainly trying to calm his nerves, which were badly rattled by the fact that, at any moment, Hermione could enter. Trying to take his mind off of Hermione (again in vain, as he had been able to think of little else for the past few days), he examined the room he was in. On the wall opposite the door, there was a stone fireplace; the entire mantle of which was full of pictures of Hermione throughout the years.

'Wow, Hermione was just as pretty back then,' thought Harry browsing the photographs. One picture in particular caught his eye, a picture that looked as if it had been taken only a little while ago, of Hermione and her parents. They all looked so happy together, so loving. It sorely reminded Harry of what he had missed for the first eleven years of his life. It almost brought a tear to his eye. But this Harry was through feeling sorry for himself. This Harry was ready to put the past behind him, and focus on his future. With that thought, he tore his gaze away from the picture and examined others. He happened upon what, in his opinion, was the stereotypical Hermione picture. It featured a young Hermione standing in front of a colonnaded building. On closer inspection, the building turned out to be a library, with a sign across the top of the façade that read "Now Open".

'Of course Hermione would have to be the first into a new library,' he thought with a chuckle.

His thoughts on young Hermione were interrupted by the full grown version bursting through the doorway. Harry looked around at her. As soon as she saw who it was that the unnamed Ministry agent was, her expression changed from one of concern to one of joy, and she ran at him and jumped into his arms. The Harry of a few weeks ago would not have been able to hold Hermione up. But this Harry, fresh from two solid weeks of hearty meals and early morning exercising and strength training was able to easily lift her up and twirl her around. His nervousness had evaporated at her expression of joy upon seeing him, and he merely reveled in the feeling of holding Hermione in his arms.

Harry looked at his friend of five years, and noticed a few "changes" to her body. Changes Harry was not in the least bit adverse to. She still had the same large brown eyes, the same bushy (but not as bushy as it had been) brown hair, but it was now on the body of a young woman, rather than a girl. Harry assumed that these changes must have begun a lot earlier, but he must have been oblivious to it (as he had been to most things the previous year).

They were interrupted by a very confused Mrs. Granger clearing her voice loudly. Harry set Hermione back on the ground and they both turned toward her mother.

"Mom, I would like you to meet Harry, he's my friend from school."

Mrs. Granger, finally seeing that Harry looked to be the same age as her daughter, and thus could not very well be an agent of the Ministry of Magic, finally let out the breath she had been holding, smiled, and left, saying, "I'll leave you kids to catch up." She closed the door behind her.

Hermione turned back to Harry. But this was not the Harry she had left just a few weeks earlier after they had returned from Hogwarts. This Harry was drastically different. Instead of being a short, scrawny, scared little boy, this Harry was a tall, strong, powerful young man. He had grown about an inch (the only natural change in his appearance), he was actually well dressed, in a new suit, and he looked like he had gotten a few hearty meals. He seemed to have a larger presence, though, that didn't have to do with his added height and weight. Perhaps it was the loss of the ever-present glasses, or the fact that Harry now seemed to have an air of confidence and security that had not been there before. But whatever it was, it made Harry seem one thing to Hermione's newly matured mind: dead sexy.

Harry, not noticing Hermione's silent and very approving evaluation of his new persona, drew his wand and cast a powerful privacy charm. He then cast a few blinding charms on the windows. His admiration of his handiwork was interrupted by Hermione shrieking.

"What are you doing!" she yelled, angry the interruption of her musings when she was almost licking her lips.

"What do you mean?" he asked, taken aback by her outburst.

"I mean using magic outside of school…again! Are you trying to get expelled! Dumbledore can't defend you from what you just did!"

"Hermione..."

"And what are you doing away from the Dursleys'," yelled Hermione, now on a roll, realizing that none of this seemed right, "Any one of Voldemort's agents could happen by and kill you, just like that."

"HERMIone…"

"And where did you get those clothes? Don't even tell me you've been shopping in Diagon Alley. All of those wizards, you were bound to see one of Voldemort's agents. Now Voldemort knows you're out of Dumbledore's eye…"

"HERMIONE!"

"What?" she said, startled at the interruption.

"Could you at least listen before you start berating me for things I haven't done?"

"Ummm…okay," she stated, confused, and sat down on the sofa in front of the fireplace. Harry sat down next to her. He had sat next to her many times, but never had he been so acutely aware of her presence.

Deciding he had better get started before she noticed his looks (well, almost stares) at her, he began.

"It all started a few weeks back…"

Almost an hour later, Harry finally got through his tale of the past few weeks. Hermione's jaw had been descending towards the ground since he had begun, and by the end of his tale, it had hit the floor. Nearly five minutes later, she finally was able to pick it back up.

"But if he told you not to tell anyone, why are you telling me, Harry?"

"Because, my dear Hermione," he saw her blush a bit when he called her his dear, "he also told me that I need to find a person to be my Subterprefect."

Hermione's mind reeled at that statement. 'He couldn't be asking me…could he?'

"You know I need someone smart, someone I can count on, someone who I can trust and who trusts me, someone I…. I need you. Will you do it? For me?"

Harry now knew had to watch his speech around Hermione. He had almost said "someone I love", but was determined to make that moment special.

Hermione knew what her answer would be even before the question had left Harry's mouth. She hugged him, murmuring "Of course, anything for you."

Harry wrapped his arms around her in turn, thinking of what the next day would bring.

_The Next Day…_

The Great Hall of the High Commission was a truly massive chamber; it was twice as big, in Harry's opinion, as the Great Hall at Hogwarts. The floors were black marble, and the walls were polished and carved wood. Giant stained glass windows lined the walls, depicting famous figures and events from the history of magic. Separating the windows were large wooden pillars that arched up to the ceiling, which was exquisitely paneled in wood and gold. Extending away from the doors at the back of the hall were bench-like seats, almost like those in a church. The hall could easily seat 10,000.

At the moment, every single seat in the entire hall was full, and some benches looked as if they had more people than would ordinarily fit. Those at the very front looked like ants from where Harry and Hermione were standing.

The guards who had led them from the room their portkey had taken them to and then had opened the colossal doors for them took positions at either side of the doors, holding their halberds off to one side. They wore jet black armor, and were bearing tall black halberds with gleaming silver heads. At a questioning glance from Harry, one of them nodded in the direction of the front of the room. He looked at Hermione, she nodded, and, taking her hand in his, they started to walk towards the front.

'Wow, I'm actually holding Hermione's hand," Harry's mind babbled. "Her hands are softer than I thought they could be. Why had I never thought of this before? It all seems so right now.'

Harry's thoughts didn't have much cohesion, while Hermione's weren't much better.

"Oh my God, it's actually happening. Harry is holding my hand! I've dreamed of the day Harry would finally take my hand in public!"

Both continued thinking in this vein for a while, not noticing their surroundings or the looks (and occasional stares) of the audience.

Harry had returned to Hermione's house that morning, after having left the preceding afternoon to arrange things, and had had her sign her commission. He then gave her the items he had had made for her the preceding night. The new Hermione was wearing a uniform similar to his, except with slightly less ornamentation. and a black skirt instead of black pants. Harry could only guess at her measurements, though, and made a mistake that could be perceived as a compliment; he had ordered the new uniform skirts a bit too small. Harry didn't mind, and from the way she kept looking over at him sneaking glances at her, quickly turning away and blushing (but smiling none the less), she didn't mind much, either.

After Hermione had changed into her new uniform, Harry held their portkey out to her, a silver disk with a "P" on it, and at a tap from Harry's wand, they were both transported to the center of Belluelle City. Neither had gotten a good look at the city itself, as they were ushered from the small, plain, windowless room they had arrived in to the Great Hall.

The long nave of the Hall emptied into a full circle, around which seats were raised up high over the head of the person testifying before them. It vaguely reminded Harry of the chambers of the Wizengamot, except circular instead of square, while Hermione, who had never been in the Wizengamot, could only stare around in wonder.

There were precious few who had come to see the event that Harry actually knew. In the front row were Dumbledore and Remus Lupin, who Harry smiled at seeing again. The rest of the people Harry did not recognize (not that he could see them all, anyway), and he assumed they had just heard that Harry Potter would be there and had come to see. Harry noticed that the seats that held the Prefects and the High Commissioner were all filled, save one. Each seat had a flag behind it, which Harry assumed designated the country each represented. The seat for the United Kingdom was empty.

In the very middle of the circular section, there was a lectern atop a dais slightly raised above the rest of the floor. Assuming that he was supposed to stand there, he made his way up to the lectern, with Hermione right by his side. He stepped up onto the dais, helped Hermione up, and faced the High Commissioner.

"Who comes before the High Commission for Magic?" intoned the Duke.

"Harry James Potter," said Harry.

"Hermione Jane Granger," said Hermione.

"What business have you before the Commission?" demanded the Duke, who looked like he was enjoying himself a bit too much.

"To be inducted into the Commission, as Prefect for the British Isles," responded Harry.

"Are you prepared to swear the Oath?" asked Adrian.

'Oath? What oath? I didn't know I was supposed to know an oath.'

He then caught sight of a piece of paper on the lectern, with the words "Oath of Allegiance" written across the top.

"Yes, I am," he responded finally.

The Duke looked pleased, and motioned a guard forward. He came holding a book, which Harry recognized as a Bible. He handed the Bible to Hermione, bowed to them both, and then retreated back to the side of the room.

"Please place your left hand on the Bible, raise you right hand, and repeat after me."

Hermione raised the Bible to a level at which Harry could lay his hand upon. He did so, raised his right hand, and waited.

"I, state your name," began the Duke.

"I, Harry James Potter,"

"Hereby declare, on oath,"

"that I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any national power in the magical world, of whom I have heretofore been a subject; that I swear complete fealty to the law, and to the world of magic as a whole, with no regard for race or nationality; that I will uphold and defend the Declarations and Laws of the High Commission, as Prefect of Magic for the British Isles, from any and all enemies; that I will endeavor to create an atmosphere of brotherhood and cooperation between all peoples; that I shall do whatever is necessary, even to the point of laying down my own life, to defend the both worlds from their enemies; and that I take this oath freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, so help me God."

As Harry finished and Hermione lowered the book, which was starting to become a strain on her arms, the High Commission and the various onlookers stood and applauded, while Harry looked around embarrassed by the attention. The ceilings of the Hall seemed to amplify the noise, making the applause seem deafening. He saw Dumbledore smiling at him, his eyes twinkling like mad. He saw Remus, who seemed confounded by the whole affair, as if he hadn't been told a thing before hand ('He probably wasn't,' thought Harry.) The Duke was grinning, as if he had known this would embarrass Harry and had done it just for that reason. The various onlookers had many expressions on their faces, ranging from happiness to indifference to outright dislike by a few. This confused him, as he was sure that Death Eaters couldn't make it into such a secure location. Then again, his predecessor had been a Death Eater, and had worked here for years. He would have to talk to Adrian about putting a Secrecy Charm over everyone present. Especially the press, whom he had just noticed were expending many many rolls of film in pictures of him and Hermione (they were standing so close it would have been impossible to get a picture of him alone).

Speaking of Hermione, he finally looked over at her, standing next to him on the dais. She was squeezing his hand, which had never left her's, almost painfully in her excitement. Her pretty face was beaming with pride, and she was smiling broadly at him. She looked so beautiful and happy…it seemed perfect.

Without a second thought, Harry embraced her and pressed his lips to hers.

_A/N: I know, I'm evil, but have heart in that that was the last big cliffhanger for a good while. 0.87 of readers reviewing, just for your information._


	10. Eventi Osculi

_A/N: Another week, another chapter._

Hermione put up no resistance to Harry embracing her. Sure, it was a bit odd, considering that Harry had never done anything of the sort before. Still, there was a first time for everything. She wrapped her arms around Harry's back, feeling the strong muscles that he had developed through his recent training. They seemed to be too big to be explained away by two weeks of exercise, especially since Harry had never engaged in such pursuits before this summer. When Harry's lips had met her own, though, she lost all conscious thought.

A few seconds later, when Harry finally broke the kiss, he held Hermione's face for a few moments, looking into her eyes. She looked dazed, and had a glazed over expression, but, at the same time, deeper in her eyes, she looked deliriously happy. He smiled at her, and her smile in return told him everything was alright, and that she felt the same. He then turned towards the audience, where the reporters were snapping pictures of them with renewed fervor. He was sure that when they were released from their Secrecy Spell, the Daily Prophet would have a full page picture of him and Hermione in a slightly-more-than-friendly position, but this did not have the same effect on him as it used to. This would mean, however, that Harry would have to rush a bit so that he could tell those who needed to be told in person before they read about it in the paper.

He especially needed to get to Ron before he read the paper. He was sure that if Ron read the paper before Harry told him in person, the reaction would be exponentially worse than if Harry had told him in person. As it was already, Harry was sure he would have to subdue Ron with a few Strength Sappers to prevent him becoming a danger to himself and others. The fact that Harry would once again be exalted over Ron would probably not sit well with Mr. Inferiority Complex. Adding to that the fact that Harry seemed, in what Harry imagined Ron's logic would be, to have "stolen" Hermione from him, and Harry was sure that Ron would try to curse him. At the very least, Harry would probably have a broken jaw if he didn't prepare.

Pushing such morbid thoughts out of his mind for the time being, he kept his arm around Hermione's waist, and pulled her close to him while he waved and smiled at the cameras taking his picture.

Ten minutes later, with no end to the pictures in sight, Harry glanced up at Adrian. Adrian was sitting forward, his hands steepled in front of him, a bemused expression on his face. Deciding it was time to bring Adrian back to reality so they could get on with Hermione's initiation, Harry reached out with his Legilimency skill and, for lack of a better word, "poked" Adrian in the mind. This caused Adrian to jump up, and furiously glare around the hall, until his eyes met Harry's. Adrian looked over at the reporters, and, finally realizing the problem, raised him wand over his head.

"Fragor!" he shouted.

The noise that echoed through the hall was almost deafening. It worked, though. All of the reporters who had hereunto been annoying Harry and Hermione were now looking at Adrian with a cross between anger and fear.

Harry, having known what Adrian was likely to do to try and restore order, had drawn his wand and summoned an orange transparent shield around himself and Hermione. The shield, a sort of temporary version of a Muggle Haz-mat suit, was originally meant to protect from fumes, poison gas, and electricity. However, since it stopped the passage of air and force between the inside and outside of the bubble, it protected them from the wave of sound that had engulfed the hall. Dispelling the shield, he noticed, with some amusement, the reporters desperately rubbing their ears to try and clear them of the ringing he was sure they had. Harry was all too familiar with that spell, as Adrian had used it on him when Harry had been laughing at Adrian tripping in his battle armor and then unable to get up. When his pleas for assistance were drowned out by Harry's laughter, he had used the spell to get Harry's attention.

Now, the reporters had recovered, and were looking up at Adrian with anger, though Harry noticed it was tinged with more than a little trepidation.

Adrian, for his part, looked amused, and instructed them to return to their seats. Once they had complied, he then instructed Hermione to give the Bible to Harry. He held it out in front of her, and she rested her left hand on it. She took her oath, which was basically the same as Harry's with the appropriate changes for her name. When she was finished, Harry was forced to drop the Bible and brace himself as Hermione threw herself into his arms, and, taking the initiative, gave him a kiss to rival the one she had just given him. They quickly lost themselves in each other, and only broke apart at a telekinetic slap on each of their heads by Adrian, who was glaring at them from his seat above. They both looked sheepishly at him and then looked towards the audience, who were applauding once more.

Remus still looked shocked, which had probably been compounded by them kissing. Dumbledore had a broad smile on his face and an almost insane twinkle in his eye. The guests had a myriad of looks, from shock (most of the men and the older women) to happiness (some of the men and women) to rage and jealousy (most of the younger women). The rage and jealousy was mostly directly at Hermione, and Harry started feeling a seething hate at these people who were plotting how to steal him from Hermione, as if he was some trophy that could be possessed. Hermione was oblivious to this, of course, as her mental magical skills were still untrained. All she could see was a few women with dirty looks on their faces. To Harry, however, waves of hate so strong as to be sickening were pouring out of the audience. Shaking his head in disgust, he turned off his Empathy sense and looked around some more. The press corps had remained in their seats, grudgingly complying with Adrian's order. One could see, however, how their fingers itched to grab their cameras and snaps pictures like crazy.

Adrian stood, and so did everyone else in the hall. He then extended his hands out in front of him, as if a priest giving a blessing.

"Sic erit," he stated, "Harrius Iacobus Potter et Hermia Iana Granger, vos spem novam Britanniae et mundi estis! Vadete in pace mundum amare et servire!"

"Deo gratias," responded the crowd, (and Harry and Hermione, though a bit late).

With this, the crowd started to file out. Dumbledore and Remus left the row they had been sitting in, but rather than leave, they walked forward to the dais where Harry and Hermione were still standing, taking in all that had happened.

"Congratulations," said Dumbledore upon reaching them.

"Thanks, Professor," they responded together.

"Yeah, congratulations, but I still don't know what's going on," said Remus.

"All will be explained, Moony," said Harry cryptically, "but first we need to find someplace private to talk." He looked up at Adrian, who was descending from the high seats along with the rest of the councilors. When he reached the bottom, he walked over to them and offered his own congratulations.

"Thanks Adrian, but we need someplace to talk, and I was hoping to ask you a few questions."

"Sure," responded Adrian, "Come up with me to my office, and we'll speak there."

With that, he turned and walked towards the exit of the hall, leaving the four to follow in his wake.

_A/N: Alright, the bit of latin means: _

_Thus shall it be. Harry James Potter and Hermione Jane Granger, you are the new hope of Britain and the world. Go in peace to love and serve the world._

_Then everyone responded:_

_Thanks be to God._

_I apologize, it was a bit short this week, but next week we are going to get to the trial, and our first meeting with an irate young Weasley. 0.92 of readers reviewing, almost there, just a little ways to one percent!_


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